The most wonderful dreams imaginable are dreamt
close to the eaves. And when a man leaves behind him the garret, he
also leaves behind the fondest illusions. But who--who would stay in
the garret!
And as my thoughts ran on, the question rose, Whom would they send in
his place--Dan's? I knew London. It was familiar ground. Perhaps
they might send me. It was this thought which unsettled me. I was
perfectly satisfied with New York. Phyllis lived in New York. There
would be time enough for London when we were married. Then I began to
build air castles. A newspaper man is the architect of some splendid
structures, but he thoughtlessly builds on the sand when the tide is
out. Yes, foreign corresponding would be all well enough, I mused,
with Phyllis at my side. With her as my wife I should have the envy of
all my fellow craftsmen. We should dine at the embassies and the
attaches would flutter about us, and all London would talk of the
beautiful "Mrs. Winthrop." Then the fire in my pipe-bowl went out.
The copy boy was at my elbow again.
"Hang you!" said I.
"The foreman says he's coming down with an axe," replied the boy.
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